


I Want to Hold Your Hand (I Want to Hold You Forever)

by StarlightPhoenix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), this is 2k words about holding hands so i hope youre ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightPhoenix/pseuds/StarlightPhoenix
Summary: After their trials, Crowley and Aziraphale are free to do as they please. All Crowley wants to do is hold Aziraphale's hand. It takes a while, but he gets there eventually.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 209





	I Want to Hold Your Hand (I Want to Hold You Forever)

Crowley felt warm, which was surprising for a cold-blooded demon. 

They were celebrating their freedom, enjoying their first meal as free agents who would never have to answer to Heaven or Hell again. Aziraphale enjoyed the food and they shared a bottle of wine. The excitement from earlier faded into something softer. They clinked glasses and toasted to the world. Maybe it was the high from earlier, maybe it was just Aziraphale, but Crowley never saw him look so bright. Nothing changed, definitely not Aziraphale’s clothes, but his smile was blinding and Crowley was thankful his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses. 

Aziraphale smiled at him, and more importantly, his hand was on the table, palm facing up. 

Crowley could imagine taking it, lacing their fingers together and promising to never let go. He imagined kissing it. 

(He did once, when it was in fashion. He held Aziraphale’s hand and brought it to his lips, hidden eyes watching Aziraphale blush pink. He felt warm then, too, terrified that Aziraphale would pull away first. Crowley had let go quickly. It was a greeting. Nothing more. He never dared to do so again.)

He imagined stroking Aziraphale’s wrist, delicate and soft and fragile. Human wrists were always fragile, and he would be careful. He imagined that Aziraphale would be warm–he always imagined Aziraphale with a soft glow, was amazed every time he realized that no one else saw Aziraphale illuminated by a golden halo.

“To the bookshop, dear?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Aziraphale reddened, looking down at the table. “Well, it is  _ such _ a lovely night, I thought we could go to the bookshop. I forgot that you have other responsibilities.”

“No!” 

Aziraphale looked up at his shout, along with too many other patrons. He waved his hand, and the humans turned back to their food. 

“I meant, no, I don’t have any responsibilities. I’d love to go to the bookshop, Angel.”

The angel beamed, and Crowley sighed in relief. 

It was their first night of freedom. He could do this. He could hold Aziraphale's hand. He wasn’t some coward. He was a demon! It was practically a temptation. 

They had walked to the Ritz, and neither of them wanted to hail a cab. The sun was out, the air was warm, and it was a short enough walk that they wouldn’t tire. Humans walked around them, talking and laughing and holding hands. If they could do it, Crowley could do it.

“It’s lovely,” Aziraphale sighed. “The weather, I mean.”

“Yeah. Surprised we can see the Sun today.”

Aziraphale laughed at the joke. It was kind of him, really, because Crowley regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. 

The weather. Friends don’t talk about the weather, that’s for sure. He might not have a lot of friends, but he knew that much. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to be in a rush. He walked slowly, leisurely, strolling along with everyone else. They had already visited the bookshop, already soothed the panicked desire to see that it was restored. Now, they were strolling home after dinner. 

More importantly, Aziraphale didn’t have his hands clasped in front of him. Instead, his arms were at his side. Crowley could brush against him. He could let the back of his hand graze Azriaphale’s, could pretend it was an accident if Aziraphale pulled away. 

If he wasn’t such a coward, he could hold Aziraphale’s arm. They could walk as a couple, Crowley leaning against Aziraphale and feeling the warmth of the angel. 

He could do it. 

But the few inches between them felt like miles, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move his arm just a little farther and take Aziraphale’s hand into his own. 

Aziraphale never seemed to notice. He walked on, smiling and talking about the weather. 

The closer they got to Soho, the more the locals recognized them. Aziraphale smiled and nodded and lifted his hand to wave. Every time, Crowley would track the movement with his eyes, and every time, he would be disappointed in himself when he could not hold Aziraphale’s hand. 

The bookshop was the same. Other than a few new books–first editions, Aziraphale claimed, as if they were as valuable as a Wilde–nothing was out of place. Even the dust was the same. 

It was a familiar routine by now. One chair for Aziraphale, and one entire couch for Crowley who firmly believed that the arms of the couch were the perfect foot rest. He fell into the couch and watched Aziraphale go to the back for some tea and biscuits. He started to arrange himself into a casual lounge before suddenly getting an idea. 

He shot up and pushed Aziraphale’s seat to the other side of the room, using a miracle to keep it from loudly scraping against the floor. He managed to get it beside a bookshelf before he heard the clink of china against the metal tray. He jumped back to the couch, sitting properly. His back was straight and his feet were on the ground and his hands were folded on his lap before he moved them to his side. 

Azirphale walked back with the tray of goodies. He looked at Crowley, the spot beside Crowley, and then turned to look for the missing chair. 

Crowley’s heart sank when Aziraphale set the tray down and miracled the chair back in place. 

“How did that get over there?” Aziraphale asked. “Odd that, but Adam did marvelously with everything else.” 

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, sinking into the couch. With no chance of the angel sitting beside him, he threw his legs on the armrest. “It’s not his fault though. He’s never been here before. Had to get something wrong.”

“Better the chair than the books.”

Crowley nodded again. “Did you read those books Adam created?”

“Oh, yes! I skimmed the back covers, and they look delightful! So creative! And it’s so nice to see books with a synopsis on the back, rather than appraisal from critics.” 

Aziraphale continued on. The angel, Crowley knew, had strong opinions about book covers, including the recent lack of summaries on the back. Crowley nodded and hummed whenever Aziraphale paused, but he was content with listening. 

Even in the low light of the bookshop, Aziraphale seemed to glow. Crowley watched him and felt himself heating up again. The bookshop would be perfect to finally confess to Aziraphale. It was Aziraphale’s home, after all. It was where the angel was most comfortable, the most relaxed. He could finally tell Aziraphale the truth about his feelings there in the bookshop, away from prying eyes and troublesome angels and demons. 

Aziraphale was not talking.

He was watching Crowley with growing concern, and Crowley realized he was waiting for an answer.

He shook his head and offered a smile. “What was that, angel?”

“Shouldn’t you be going home?” Aziraphale asked.

The warmth rushed out of Crowley’s body. 

“Home?”

“You look exhausted, dear. We had a long day. Don’t you want to go home and sleep?”

Right. Reality was nothing like his imagination. No matter how many times he daydreamed about calling the bookshop his home, it wasn’t. Not according to Aziraphale. 

He grinned and gave an exaggerated stretch, faking a yawn for extra measure. “Yeah, right. Should head out now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He could try again tomorrow. 

They had time, now. He could spend eternity with Aziraphale.

He could try again. 

The angel walked him to the door.

“Mind how you go,” Aziraphale said, hands fidgeting in front of him. 

Crowley left. 

He had tomorrow, after all. He could take the angel to another restaurant, they’d retreat back to the bookshop, and maybe he’d have a little more courage. Maybe he’d finally reach over and take Aziraphale’s hands, finally saying what was on his mind for millenia. They had so much time now. 

He made it one block away from the bookshop before he realized what he was doing. He was walking away from Aziraphale. 

He finally had the chance to stay, and he was walking away. 

He stopped, ignoring the startled yelps of passerby. He turned around and ran back to the bookshop. 

He wasn’t going to do anything tomorrow. 

He was going to do it today, on the first day of their new lives. 

The bookshop was never locked, and Crowley didn’t think to knock. He barged in, slamming the door against the wall. 

Aziraphale was sitting in his chair, bright and beautiful in the dim light of the bookshop. 

He strode forward and grabbed Aziraphale’s hands before he could chicken out. 

Aziraphale blushed. He looked at Crowley, down to their hands, and up again at his face. Crowley realized that he was still wearing his sunglasses, but if he moved to take them off now, he’d lose his nerve. 

He was right. Aziraphale had the softest hands. His fingers fit perfectly against Crowley’s. They were warm and soft, just like Aziraphale, and even if Crowley never said anything, even if Aziraphale rejected him, he would be content knowing that he held Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s tongue nervously darted out, licking his lips. “My dear, what are you doing?” 

_ I’m holding your hands. _

“I love you,” he said instead. 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Blue eyes peered at his face, but the sunglasses kept his own golden eyes hidden. 

Aziraphale pulled his hands away. 

A rush of cold flooded Crowley, but only for a moment. 

Rather than moving away, Aziraphale reached up to take off his sunglasses. There was nothing left to protect him from the brightness that was Aziraphale’s smile. The angel was glowing, and Crowley leaned forward to bask in his happiness. 

“I see.” Aziraphale paused, running through possible confessions before settling on the easiest. “I love you, too.” 

Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale, burying his face into his shoulder. The angel’s metaphorical glow was morphing into a literal golden halo. 

He was right when he thought Aziraphale would be warm. Aziraphale seemed to heat him from the inside out. Crowley was helpless to tightening his arms to pull that warmth even closer, letting it make a home inside him. 

Fingers slowly brushed against his hair. 

“Now that I’m not enjoying this, but isn’t this where we kiss?”

“Nhh?”

He pulled back. Aziraphale smiled at him, and it was beautiful. Everything about Aziraphale was beautiful, but at that moment, his smile was the most beautiful. 

“Kiss,” Aziraphale repeated. “If you want, that is.” 

Crowley planned to lean forward slowly to give Aziraphale the chance to back out. But as soon as he started to move, Aziraphale pulled him closer by the jacket, faster than he was expecting, and then they were kissing. 

His eyes fluttered shut. It was perfect. Aziraphale fit perfectly against him, warm and soft and Crowley wondered if his heart would escape his ribs. Aziraphale’s hands drifted upwards to rest on his neck, and Crowley’s own hands moved to Aziraphale’s hair, pushing him closer until he was surrounded by Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale pulled back, wide blue staring into gold. The angel was ruffled in the best way, hair sticking up and cheeks a gentle pink. If Crowley had to guess, he’d say he was the same. He could feel the heat on his face and into his ears, and he definitely felt Aziraphale tug at his hair at one point. 

He ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair in a mostly successful attempt to soothe it back down. 

“Well,” Aziraphale breathed. “We should do that again sometime.”

He grinned, hoping for suave but landing closer to love-struck fool. “Yeah?”

“Very soon,” Aziraphale promised. “But–oh, you were going home to get some rest! It’s late now. Perhaps you should stay here for the night?”

Aziraphale’s hands fidgeted in front of him. Somehow, after their confession and kiss, the angel still thought he might leave. 

He took those hands into his own. 

“Aziraphale,” he said seriously, looking into those worried eyes. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The answering smile was blinding. A beautiful start to the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Also you can find me at [cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com](https://cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com/) for more GO content! Feel free to say hi!


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